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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27749053">close the blinds and make your bed a home.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Background Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Needs a Hug, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders-centric, Depression, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Isolation, Mental Health Issues, Self-Destruction, Self-Hatred, Self-Indulgent, Suicidal Thoughts, Sympathetic Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, remus is only mentioned twice</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:29:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>503</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27749053</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not hard to destroy yourself.</p>
<p>This is something Roman is intimately familiar with; a path he’s gone down time after time after time. It’s the same story, he’s found—and he’s not surprised by that, honestly, because people are predictable and Roman is no exception to the rule. Though, that doesn’t mean he enjoys the process, no matter how familiar it’s become.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>close the blinds and make your bed a home.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s not hard to destroy yourself.</p>
<p>This is something Roman is intimately familiar with; a path he’s gone down time after time after time. It’s the same story, he’s found—and he’s not surprised by that, honestly, because people are predictable and Roman is no exception to the rule. Though, that doesn’t mean he enjoys the process, no matter how familiar it’s become.</p>
<p>And yet here he is, lying on his bed for what has to be the fifth (sixth?) day in a row, half-dressed and tangled up in enough blankets that he feels like he’s burning alive. His room is a mess; torn apart inch by inch, belongings thrown away and smashed and burned until nothing that reminds him of himself remains, leaving behind nothing but trash. Broken shards of glass lie on the floor where he’d punched his mirror, the pictures lining the walls ripped where his face once was. His phone is lost somewhere among the chaos, having been thrown across the room when he’d received yet another call from his brother, no doubt worrying about him by now.</p>
<p>(There had been other calls, too, from other family, friends—but they’d given up days ago, probably with their minds made up that he hated them and wanted nothing to with them, or, perhaps, deciding themselves that he isn’t worth the effort. Wouldn’t be the first time.)</p>
<p>Cars drive passed his miserable excuse of a home, if it can even be called that now; light shining on his bedroom wall and causing shadows to shift and change and transform in front of his eyes. Roman has the idle wonder if they’re driving passed the spot where he’d dumped and burned his paintings, his books, as well as any art supplies he could find. He can’t find it in him to care.</p>
<p>By his side, the clock on his nightstand ticks on, reading barely passed three in the morning.</p>
<p>His arms throb.</p>
<p>His head feels ready to explode.  </p>
<p>(Part of him wishes it would so he can just be done with it all already. A grim thought, yes, one likely influenced from his time spent growing up alongside Remus—or perhaps it truly <em>has</em> gotten that bad, creeping up on him without him realizing, rising to the point where he’d prefer <em>anything</em> other than living—)</p>
<p>Grumbling, Roman pulls the bedsheets over his head and curls up into a ball, closing his eyes in hopes that sleep would take him once more.</p>
<p>He’s sure, whether it be tomorrow or the next day or the next week or whenever else, that this will pass, and he’ll get better and bounce back to whatever “normal” he can reach.</p>
<p>And he’s also sure that, with time, the cycle will repeat itself, starting over from the beginning until he ends up right back here, waiting for it to end.</p>
<p>(Because as easy as it is to destroy himself, he really does want to get better.)</p>
<p>(It just so happens that “getting better” is easier said than done.)</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Started out these oneshots with an isolated-but-happy fic; ending them with an isolated-but-depressed fic.</p>
<p>Roman is ridiculously easy to project all of our creator-related frustrations and self-hatred onto. </p>
<p>If you want to request a story, please redirect it to our <a href="https://namediscomfort.tumblr.com/ask">tumblr</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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